Sticks And Stones Will Break Our Bones,

I Get Tired Of Hearing It's A Crummy World And That People Are No Damned Good. What Kind Of Talk Is That? I Know A Place In Payette, Idaho, Where A Cook And A Waitress And A Manager Put Everything They've Got Into Laying A Chicken-fried Steak On You.

The Gift Was Not Large As Money Goes, And My Need Was Not Great, But The Spirit Of The Gift Is Beyond Price And Leaves Me Blessed And In Debt.

Sticks And Stones Will Break Our Bones, But Words Will Break Our Hearts.

The Name Is Not Important Anymore - It's The Tone That Counts. I Feel Like An Old Dog I Know. He Will Come To Any Name You Call Him, Just So Long As Your Demeanor Carries With It The Promise Of Affection And Food

I Know What I Really Want For Christmas. I Want My Childhood Back. Nobody Is Going To Give Me That. I Might Give At Least The Memory Of It To Myself If I Try. I Know It Doesn't Make Sense, But Since When Is Christmas About Sense, Anyway? It Is About A Child, Of Long Ago And Far Away, And It Is About The Child Of Now. In You And Me. Waiting Behind The Door Of Or Hearts For Something Wonderful To Happen. A Child Who Is Impractical, Unrealistic, Simpleminded And Terribly Vulnerable To Joy.